Wallets
by Creator-Tan
Summary: Randy and Howard join the drama club to try and get girls, but Randy ends up leaving Howard in the dust. Just a short fic written for school (to explain the absence of any ninja-ing).


Just a thing I wrote for school. (I know the play scene is long and unnecessary, but I _really _wanted to write it).

RC9GN belongs to Disney and whatever.

* * *

"Ladies." Randy leaned against the locker, winking at the girls who passed by. Said girls, however, walked by without a glance.

Randy plopped down next to Howard. "Why won't girls talk to us?" he groaned. Randy dramatically slumped his head on his friend's shoulder.

"I can name a couple reasons why they wouldn't talk to _you, _Cunningham." Howard took a bite out of his sandwich. "…But to pass up a babe like _me. _That's the mystery."

Randy huffed, wiping turkey bits and food spray off of his face.

_ "Don't forget: club signups will take place after school in the courtyard. Go carps." _The monotonous PA lady announced _again_.

Randy shot up, almost knocking over his short friend. "That's it!" He turned to Howard, grabbing his shoulders as if he's just made the revelation of the century. "We will _join a club!_"

Howard shrugged. "It's worth a shot. I mean, I still don't see how our band isn't world famous yet, but whatever."

Then came the choosing of a club, a task the two freshmen were _not _prepared for. Exhausted, the teens collapsed on the grass.

Randy sighed, blowing a clump of dark hair out of his face. "Sewing club?"

"Nope," Howard rolled his eyes, "They couldn't see the genius of using bacon as fabric."

"Newspaper?"

"Debbie would kill us."

"Chess?"

"They're still bitter about last time."

"Book club?"

It went quiet. Then both boys burst into laughter.

"Okay, but seriously, what about any sports? Like football? Soccer? Table tennis?"

"Are you kidding? Remember last time? I couldn't get the peanut butter out of my hair for weeks."

"Then _what, _Howard?" Randy said, considering just giving up.

Then, as if it were a movie, the total cliché of a paper falling on Randy's face just _"happened". _Randy held the paper, sitting up.

"_Drama club?" _Both boys stared at the poster.

"Well, I _do _look _great _in tights." Howard said, taking a drink from a juice box.

"Ew, dude, I did _not _need those mental images." Randy covered his face with his hands. "Where'd you get that juice anyways?"

"I don't know, probably bought it."

"….wait." Randy patted his pockets. "Give me back my wallet!"

As the boys started wrestling, they didn't notice the pair of figures watching from a bush nearby.

"I can't believe that worked!" one voice squealed.

"They're idiots. Of course it worked," another grumbled, sarcasm dripping from her words.

"What! No, Randy's not that-" The first voice started again when she was interrupted by an exclamation from the boy in question.

"You used my money! At least let me have some, you jerk!"

You could practically hear the eye-rolling.

"Perfect! Absolutely stupendous!" the drama director _gushed,_ "Randy! Such enthusiasm! What energy! You perfectly capture the _essence _of young Finnian!"

"What about me?" Howard asked, slightly insulted he was being ignored.

"…Ah, yes, Mr. Weinerman. You have…much power, but...uh, none of these roles seem to fit your aura. What if you worked as senior personal stage assistant?"

"What does that do?" Howard crossed his short arms, pudgy face settling into a pout.

"You bring snacks from the cafeteria," the director shrugged, "_but, _since we're a club, all of the food is free, and you can eat-"

"I'm in!"

"-whatever you want," Ms. Toboso finished lamely.

"Alright students, I call for a ten minute break. Practice your lines, find your muse, eat donuts. I don't care." The director walked away, coffee in hand, most likely to go look for more.

"Dude, this club is _awesome!" _Randy's eyes practically sparkled. "Cool teacher, no tests, and we get out of gym!"

"Don't forget the snacks!" The boys high-fived, ready to walk off for snacks.

"Randy?" the director called, "Randy Cunningham, you are needed on set!"

"Got to run, see you after practice!" Randy scurried off the stage.

Howard huffed and walked to the back of the theater. This was going to be a _long day_, wasn't it?

"Hey, buddy," Randy said; his backpack slung on his shoulder. "You ready to go? There's a new copy of Ninja Dragon Warrior I'm just itching to get my hands on."

"Sure." Howard pouted, not looking at his friend.

Howard Weinerman knew his best bro. He knew that whenever Randy got into something, that thing had his full, unwavering attention for who knows how long. When Howard isn't into that thing too, then he just has to deal with being put on the back burner because that's just how Cunningham worked.

At least the drama club only met once a week.

…Or, at least that's what the poster said.

"What!" Howard yelped, "Three times a week? Are you_ serious_?" He held a memo in his hands, crumpling the edges of the paper in his hands.

"Woah, meetings are now on Monday, Thursday, _and_ Saturday." Randy read over the redhead's shoulder.

"How stupid! We'd never-"

"Cool! I get to practice three days a week!" Randy excitedly exclaimed, interrupting Howard.

"Hey, Randy!" Oh, great, one of the drama geeks just called him over.

…And Cunningham just left. Fabulous.

The next two weeks wasn't any better.

Randy kept cancelling plans to _"rehearse"_ and hang with his _"costars". _

Howard just stopped going to drama club altogether. When Randy walked through those tacky double doors, Howard turned around and hightailed it out of there.

Sighing, Howard sat behind the bleachers. Not that anyone would look for him there anyways.

"Ok, so it's during the wedding scene, right?"

Is this stupid play following him?

"Yeah, so just before the big kiss, we drop a bunch of chickens on his head!"

Howard perked up, scooting closer to the snickering girls.

"Chickens? Why chickens?"

"Cause the loser is _completely terrified _of chickens."

Howard froze. _Randy_ was terrified of chickens. He tried to get closer when suddenly he lost his balance and tripped. The girls silenced. Howard held his breath. They left. He sighed in relief and turned to leave when-_"Oh no."_

Girl number one was standing right in front of him. Girls two through four were behind her.

Howard bolted out of there. He had to warn Randy.

No luck. It seemed girls one through four had it out for him. They did everything in their power to keep Howard from Randy. It worked.

"Opening night is tomorrow. No pressure." Howard burst through the door. He scanned the theater for his friend. Seeing Randy, the redhead made a beeline to the stage.

"Randy!" he called. Suddenly, he was stopped. Looking up, it was the drama director.

"Mr. Weinerman!" She sounded furious.

"Ms. Toboso, please, just one second. I have to-"

"No. Don't you _dare _think you can run amok in my theater. Not when you've been skipping practice, sabotaging sets, ruining costumes, and _eating __**all **__the donuts. _Young man, you will never enter this theater again!" Ms. Toboso pushed Howard out, red in the face.

That stupid girl posse completely ruined everything! He didn't even do any of those things! Well, except for skipping class.

…and eating all the donuts.

Then, his mom made the entire family stay home for a family dinner.

"May I be excused?" Howard asked; his mouth was still full of food.

"That's fine. Put away your dishes." His mom hardly looked up, thankfully. He didn't even want to think about what she'd do if the saw how much broccoli he left.

Howard checked his watch. The wedding scene starts at 6:50.

"It's only….6:25! It's a half-hour walk to school!" He couldn't ask his for a ride; the car broke down last week.

Maybe if he ran he could make it? Howard ran about half a block when something caught his eye. Howard walked up to the little girl, handed her Randy's wallet, and took her bike.

Howard pedaled as fast as his short legs could. Muscles burning, lungs on fire, Howard reached the school. He dropped the bike and went through the back door.

Suddenly, Howard was pulled behind a curtain.

"What are you doing here?" an angry voice whispered. It was Debbie Kang!

"I need to warn Cunningham. Has the wedding scene started yet?"

"It starts in five minutes, but you won't be able to get anywhere near it. Ms. Toboso has the place guarded; she wants it all to be perfect."

"I'll think of something!" Howard ran off, leaving Debbie and her stupid negativity behind.

Sneaking behind the curtains, Howard dove into a rack of costumes to hide from girl number two. A fuzzy thing blocked his line of sight.

"What the-_hello." _

"Sweet Ciella, why are you so unhappy?" Randy, decked out in Victorian gear, said dramatically.

Theresa, donned in a white dress, sighed. "It is just that-"

"Ga_aaaagh!" _Suddenly, a monkey barreled on stage?

Theresa was shoved to the ground. Randy, still _way too in character,_ pulled out a sword. "Foul beast, why have you cursed this marriage?"

Howard sighed. This suit was _hot. _Playing along, he pretended to attack Randy. Okay, so maybe some of his punches weren't fake; he was still angry at Cunningham for ignoring him.

"Ciella! My dearest!" Debbie, playing the butler, rushed out to try and salvage what was left of the play, and unknowingly knocked into half of the girl posse. The cage of chickens slid out of reach, forgotten.

"My hair!" girl number three cried.

"These shoes were new!" girl four whined.

Debbie made a show of fighting Howard along with Randy.

Howard, seeing that the girl posse had already scampered off, ran off stage "defeated".

"Sebastian, my love, you returned," Theresa gasped in mock surprise.

"Anything for you, my loveliest robin." Debbie and Theresa, still _really, really in character, _held hands and stared lovingly into each other's faces.

"I assume your love is more precious than any status or wealth," Randy said, looking into the distance. "The truth is my heart wasn't in this marriage either. I am still mourning the disappearance of Nathair."

"Finnian!" Rachel ran on stage. Howard sighed. How many of them were back there?

"I have been on a quest! I found him! I found Nathair Drake!" she exclaimed.

"What?" Randy stepped back, mouth agape.

Then Jacques rushed to the stage. Randy grabbed his shoulders. "Dearest friend, is that you?"

"Yes, it is."

"Where have you been all these years?" Randy looked about ready to burst from excitement.

"After the accident, I suffered from amnesia and fled to the circus. I regained my memory from the help of young Lizzie here," he said, gesturing to Rachel.

"Friend, we have much to catch up on." Randy started to led Jacques off stage, hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, it also seems our companions wish to put Miss Ceilla's wedding dress to good use."

Randy laughed heartily, "So even without me, they still wish to continue the wedding. We really must be going. Goodbye Lizzie. Goodbye Mister and Missus Sebastian!"

The play ended with heartfelt vows, totally made up on the spot.

Howard collapsed on a chair, monkey suit hidden behind a curtain. Looking back, he saw the girl posse desperately trying to hide the chickens from Ms. Toboso. The director was taking out her anger on the girls. Randy approached him.

"Well, that was fun, but _totally exhausting. _I'm probably going to quit._" _Randy sighed, "I just hope my best bro will forgive me for being a giant jerk."

"Nah, it's cool." Howard stood. He and Randy were at the door when Jacques called out.

"Hello! Randy! Will you, how do you say, call me later?" It was amazing how well he could hide his accent on stage.

Randy waved politely, trying to ignore Howard's glare.

"Hey Howard, who's bike is this?" Randy asked pointing to the pink bicycle lying discarded on the stairs.

"Oh yeah, that reminds me. Some little girl has your wallet."

Randy patted his pockets and gasped. "_Howard!"_

"It's good to have you back, buddy."


End file.
